


Heimliche Aufforderung

by imsfire



Series: Ten songs, ten stories [9]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Jyn gets to dress up this time, Undercover Mission, because I listen to too much lieder, romance in a garden in the moonlight, song inspired fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: In the rose garden, at moonrise.  I want to run my hands over your body and untie all your silken ribbons, and kiss your precious lips until you swear to run away with me this very night...Jyn goes undercover; Cassian sends her a message to let her know he's come to pick her up.





	Heimliche Aufforderung

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the lied of the same name by Richard Strauss, which I have a bootleg recording of, sung brilliantly by Simon Keenlyside at the Schwarzenberg Lieder Festival about 10 years ago...

Not Jyn’s favourite kind of undercover job, this.  The place is posh.  Rich.  Ghastly.  Posh rich shits eating posh rich food, drinking rare wines and swanking in their gold-door-knobbed world.  It still seems weird beyond measure that the rebellion has a contact here at all. 

She’d much prefer to be meeting them in a backstreet bar somewhere, able to relax and be herself, reach her weapons easily, curse if she wants to.  She’s dressed-up to within an inch of insanity right now; shimmersilk everywhere, even her underwear.  Ridiculous.  Her dress is apparently beautiful, all cutwork velvet and silk, in laced-up sections that leave great stretches of bare skin showing across her back and hips and more than half of each breast.  Cassian’s jaw dropped when she tried it on.  But it’s impractical and chilly and has left her unable to carry more than a tiny concealed ceramic blade, tucked in the boning of her breast-band.

And the security scans for energy signatures mean she can’t wear a comm.

Her meeting has gone well, the hand-over of information as swift and smooth as any she’s known.  All she has to do now is keep her cool and keep smiling, nibble a few more bits of ludicrous food, sip another glass of ice-wine and wait for a message of some kind confirming the extraction procedure.  She can relax and play-act the role of one more party girl among dozens, eating Mandalorian caviar and the pan-fried livers of hummingbirds, or whatever that latest posh rich shit fad-food was…

A servant hovers.  Poor kriffing bastard, what a job.  Face impassive, barely-there uniform insulting and immaculate.  They’re holding out a silver salver, and on it a tiny lily-flower of folded flimsy-paper.  For her.

She picks it up with a nod of acceptance. 

“Ooh,” says one of her neighbours.  “A billet-doux!”

“Yes…”  Jyn flutters her eyelashes at the girl, then at the whole room.  Play up, play sweet and vapid, you can do it.  “It seems I have a secret admirer!  Does anyone mind if ? –“

She unfolds it deftly without waiting for replies; play the part, party girl, giggle and be eager to know what your unseen lover wants to do.

_In the rose garden, at moonrise.  I want to run my hands over your body and untie all your silken ribbons, and kiss your precious lips until you swear to run away with me this very night._

She knows the writing, of course.  And that’s quite a code; her blush is entirely natural as she imagines him doing exactly that.  Well, he did like the dress, then.

When she glances out at the garden through the tall casement windows, she sees the moon peeping over the trees.  Soft blue light floods over lawns and groves and long shrubberies.  He’s out there somewhere.  Easy to feign excitement when you feel it for real.

“Ooh, I believe I’ve been called away.  How delightfully sudden!”

“Indeed?”

“Yes.” Look down, look up again through her lashes, simper.  “I’ve been called to the service of love.  By a certain impetuous young gentleman, if you know what I mean.”

Understanding laughter from the other party girls.  “Oh, how exciting! – how stimulating! - so romance isn’t dead!”

“Take your time, darling,” adds one.  “You’ll have more fun with a secret lover out there than any of us is going to get at this _dreadful_ shindig!  I’m so bored I could swoon!”

_No time for swooning for me, I have an escape to manage._

Jyn lifts up her trailing hem, giggling in theatrical anticipation, and strolls nonchalantly to the door. 

The gardens stretch away into the distance below a wide terrace lit with lanterns.  One or two party-goers are outside, enjoying the mild night air or seeking privacy of their own.  Jyn drifts down a broad stone staircase and off through the flowers, wine glass in one hand and her long skirts in the other; just another socialite heading for an assignation, she has every right to be here, idling among these rich men’s roses.

A shadow moves towards her in the moonlight.  She turns with a smile.  He’s smartly turned-out, in an embroidered coat she remembers from a few months ago; he looks good, and in-character for their setting.  “Good evening.  Are you my secret lover tonight?”

Cassian’s smile is tender as velvet.  “Always.”  And his hands are strong, and his embrace entirely purposeful. 

She wriggles a little, in case anyone is watching.

“Better make it look realistic.”

“Oh, I intend to.”  There’s a growl in his voice that sends shivers to the soles of her feet. “The pick-up isn’t due for half an hour.  And ever since I saw you in this –“ he strokes her for a moment, silk and ribbons catching, exposed skin craving his touch – “all I’ve been able to think about was getting you alone…”

Mouth to breathless mouth, a long, long kiss.  Jyn is swaying in his arms, leaning back, yielding and pliant.  “Yes,” she gasps when their lips part at last. “Kiss me like that, Force alive, yes!”

There are wide benches here and there among the banks of rose-bushes, and he lifts her bodily and sweeps her onto one of these.  Thick cushions and draperies under her half-naked back; Cassian’s hot mouth on her earlobe, her throat, her breasts, his hands pressing, stroking, caressing.  Slowly untying one ribbon after another, lifting aside one panel of fabric, and another, and another.  Crushing himself to her, suckling one nipple, moaning in the back of his throat as she gasps with pleasure.  She threads her fingers through his hair and down his neck.  Massages his shoulders, wraps her arms and legs round him.  He’s undoing her dress all down one side, freeing her, pushing back the last little pieces of silk.  Jyn arches herself against him, rocking her hips and lifting her back; and he works his hand between her legs, probing inside the delicate underclothing, finding her where she’s wet and melting. 

It’s so easy, suddenly, to stay in character as Party Girl, and she could just lie back and let him ravish her with pleasure, but she wants to give as good as she is being given.  She manages to get her hands underneath his waistcoat; feels a button pop as she pushes it and the silk shirt up to reach his body at last.  Cassian shudders sensually under her touch.

“Gah,” he says, desperate and undignified; and then in an outrush of hot breath on her skin “Oh my love, my love…”

Jyn gives up any attempt to do anything but go with the moment; the astonished joy of hearing that word on his lips, the sensations his hands rouse in her.  Lets herself writhe and moan and cling, and gasp the same words, and a hundred others, things she’s never quite dared to say till now.  _My love, my love, all I am is yours, my love, my sweet, don’t stop, dearest, sweetheart, **yes** …_

There’s more than enough time to get back to the ship.  Later.  For now, there’s nowhere she would ever wish to be but here, in his arms, in the garden, with her dress spread around her like an opened star in the moonlight.


End file.
